


a touch shy

by earlgrey_milktea



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Character Study, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Touch-Starved, brotherhood era, just giving prompto the love he deserves, kinkmeme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 07:09:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11686611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgrey_milktea/pseuds/earlgrey_milktea
Summary: Prompto's loud and not afraid to show his affection, but he wasn't always this way. He used to always be just a touch shy.[a look at how each of his friends learn through trial and error about prompto's push and pull with physical affection.]





	a touch shy

**Author's Note:**

> original prompt post [here](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/3892.html?thread=5000756#cmt5000756)
> 
> someone wanted touchstarved prompto and his friends figuring it out and giving him the affection he needs and i was like [slams table] that is mY CUP OF TEA!! i hope y'all enjoy this and remember to hug someone today (if you're comfy with that, of course!)

Prompto hums to himself as he flips through the photos he’s just taken. He’s saved up  _ forever _ for this camera, rationing the food and necessities funds that his parents left him, resisting the temptation to dip into the emergency funds hidden in the back of the pantry. He even managed to get a job delivery newspapers. This isn’t quite the model he wanted, but Prompto makes do. It’s already loads better than the scratched-up point-and-shoot he was using.

“What are you looking at?” Noctis says from beside him.

“Hm? Oh, just checking for which ones to keep,” Prompto says. “Gotta make room on my SD card.”

“I told you I could just buy you new ones.”

“Yeah, but you also offered to buy me an entire camera.” Prompto shrugs at his friend. “It’s fine, Noct. You can spend your money on better things. Besides,” he continues before Noctis can protest again, “my SD card is fine, I just tend to take a lot of unnecessary photos. Look at this one, it’s you after that girl asked for your number.”

“What? Where?”

Prompto goes to hold out his camera, except Noctis has another idea, because he leans into Prompto’s side, chin brushing Prompto’s shoulder, close enough that Prompto can feel the warmth of his best friend through his shirt. He freezes. Noctis doesn’t move away. Quietly, Prompto allows himself to breathe again.

He shows Noctis the pictures, hopes his fingers aren’t shaking too obviously. And if he leans back, just the slightest bit, into Noctis’ steady presence, neither of them mention it.

 

 

 

 

Ignis is the first one to figure it out.

Prompto is just the boy that Noctis has befriended, another headache on Ignis’ ever-growing list. He’s loud, talks too much and too fast, and doesn’t seem to know how to stay still. He’s clumsy, almost hazardously so. Ignis has made sure to clear away any precariously fine china or glass-made items whenever the boy comes over. Which is very often, apparently. Prompto’s grades are decent, but he’s much too easy to convince in slacking off, which Noctis takes advantage of before Ignis put a quick stop to it. Prompto is a messy eater, dropping crumbs and staining his own shirts like a child. But Prompto never fails to compliment the chef, and he almost always offers to help clean up, despite Ignis’ assurances that it’s fine, enough so that even Noctis has fallen into the habit on days Prompto isn’t there.

But Prompto makes Noctis happy. Ignis realizes this quickly, just as he realizes that Prompto is genuinely here purely for Noctis’ friendship and company, nothing more. In Prompto’s presence, Ignis has seen a lightheartedness to Noctis’ smile that he hasn’t seen in ages. In that way, Ignis is grateful for Prompto. So he accepts that this excitable puppy-like teenager will continue to be a permanent fixture in Noctis’ life, and by extension, his own life.

And if Ignis is being honest, Prompto isn’t bad company at all. He makes an effort to converse with Ignis, even if he’s mostly asking questions and cracking jokes. Prompto is a good listener when he needs to be. And he remembers most things Ignis tells him, which Ignis is only slightly guilty to think he wouldn’t. Prompto is perceptive in a way that people don’t expect—and maybe Prompto prefers it that way, maybe that’s why he plays up the airheaded blond personality that Ignis knows makes up only half of who Prompto is. Prompto is considerate and likeable and (not that Ignis will ever admit it out loud) funny. 

The more time Ignis spends in Prompto’s presence, the more he learns about the boy. He notices things, such as the way Prompto always offers to help Ignis with the chores as if he owes it, the way Prompto never ever really says no to Noctis, the way Prompto has never once mentioned his parents or a curfew even though he always makes sure to never overstay his welcome. The way he wordlessly obsesses over every calorie he eats and yet never fails to polish off every plate Ignis places in front of him. The way he thrives in the presence of others. The way he beams when praises are thrown his way, the way he tries a little too hard to please.

But what Ignis has noticed most recently is how Prompto seems to both shy away from touch and yet crave touch. 

It’s a small thing. Prompto hides it well. But Ignis has always had a sharp eye for reading people—it’s in the job description, after all. And no matter how much Prompto covers it up with his bright sunny grins and loud comical yelling, Ignis sees right through it.

When Prompto’s helping him in the kitchen and Ignis reaches over too fast, knocking into the boy’s elbow, Prompto freezes. He unfreezes himself right away, but Ignis doesn’t miss the way his eyes widen, his breathing stutter. When Ignis is helping them out with their homework, and his hands brush Prompto’s when he’s reaching over to correct his equations, Prompto drops his pens, fumbles a second too long. When Ignis clasps a hand on his shoulder in praise, Prompto seems to hold his breath, staying as still as he can, the way Noctis does when the cats at the Citadel falls asleep on his lap.

But Prompto also does certain things contradicting these little hiccups. When Ignis is cleaning up in the kitchen, Prompto would wander over and nudge him in the back to claim his attention first, and then ask if he needed help. When Ignis is shopping for groceries and Prompto has volunteered to come along, he’d pat Ignis on the shoulder to ask him which brand of detergent is better, he’s run out at home but he’s always just been using the cheapest one but surely Iggy knows better? 

It’s certainly strange, though more quirky than alarming. Yet Ignis can’t help but be curious.

“Ha, my win again!” Noctis pumps his fists into the air.

Prompto groans loudly. “Only because my hair was in the way!”

“Your hair is getting kind of long.”

Prompto blows at his bangs. They land right back over his eye, and he frowns at it. Noctis snickers at his disgruntled expression. Prompto leans over and pokes him in the stomach, which leads to a poking war between the two. Ignis sighs from where he’s putting away the leftovers from dinner.

“If you’d like, Prompto,” he says, and the boys pause where they’re wrestling on the couch. “I can trim your bangs for you.”

“Really?”

“Specs does mine all the time,” Noctis says from underneath Prompto. “You can trust him.”

“I’m not a hairdresser, but I’m pretty confident in trimming bangs,” says Ignis. “It’s up to you, Prompto.”

Prompto considers this as he climbs off Noctis and offers him a hand up. Then he looks at Ignis, a weird almost-hesitant expression crossing his face. “Okay,” he says.

So Ignis finds a stool and enlists Noctis’ help in covering the bathroom floor with newspapers. He nudges Prompto onto the stool and doesn’t comment on the way Prompto’s shoulders tense up when he does. Ignis makes sure to exaggerate his movements so Prompto can see them coming. He places towels over the boy’s shoulders and readies his scissors.

“How short do you want them?”

Prompto chews on the corner of his bottom lip. “Enough so I can see? But not too short—I mean, I can always pin them up with clips, actually, it’s okay, you don’t have to—”

“Prompto,” Ignis says, and Prompto glances up at him. “I’ll be cutting your hair now.”

Gently, Ignis pulls Prompto’s bangs over his face. He lines them up, looks them over critically. Noctis has wandered back into the living room. Prompto stays still. His eyes are closed, but his teeth are still working on his lip. He’ll make himself bleed if he keeps going like that.

Ignis makes the first snip. Prompto doesn’t react. Ignis continues, falling into a steady rhythm of holding up the blond hair, snipping it off, shifting it over Prompto’s forehead to check the length. Prompto stays uncharacteristically quiet. It’s not until after Ignis is done his left bangs that he realizes Prompto is leaning slightly after his touch. He lets his head follow the small tugs Ignis makes on his hair, expression relaxing into something almost vulnerable. Ignis glances away quickly, reminding his hands not to still for fear of breaking this unintentional spell.

If Ignis spends more time than usual cutting Prompto’s hair, and if he lets his fingers linger through Prompto’s hair and against his head, no one has to know.

They come back out of the bathroom, Prompto with neatly trimmed bangs, his usual grin, and a strangely refreshed look in his eye. Ignis watches him return to his best friend, already laughing away, and then glances back at his hands. He clenches them. Then he turns to clean up, keeping his thoughts to himself for the time being.

 

 

 

 

At first, Gladio thought the kid was afraid of him.

Gladio doesn’t blame him, he knows that he makes for an intimidating figure. He takes after his dad, after all, and Clarus Amicitia is quite possibly the most terrifying man in Lucis—probably even more so than the formidable Cor the Immortal. It’s not anything new to Gladio, having people shy away from him when he walks the streets. It’s something he’s grown used to, something he has to grow used to, as the sworn Shield to the future King of Lucis. 

But Prompto doesn’t really act afraid of him, not really. The kid hangs around Noctis like a moth to a flame, but Gladio can’t say he hates the sight. Quite the opposite, really. Sure, he now has to deal with not one but two brats, but Prompto’s fun. He  _ oohs  _ and  _ ahhs  _ over Gladio’s training routine and muscles, he genuinely enjoys running and exercising unlike a certain sulky prince, he tells jokes and isn’t afraid to laugh at himself. And Prompto makes Noctis laugh, which is something that has become increasingly rare with the Wall continuing to chip away at the King’s health and the increase in worrisome reports of the Empire’s movements. That is enough reason to keep Prompto around.

Prompto jokes with Gladio just as easily as he jokes with Noctis. Once he manages to gain Ignis’ approval, he even manages to tease smiles from the serious advisor. Prompto is often found asking Gladio about healthy diets and training tips. He looks Gladio in the eye despite their height difference, he asks Gladio about his sister with ease. So Prompto isn’t afraid of Gladio, not really.

But when Gladio reaches over to give him a friendly slap on the back, Prompto flinches. Just the slightest bit. He bounces back quick, laughing loud and punching Gladio back before skipping out of reach, but Gladio has been trained to read movements of the body and he knows the stiffening of shoulder blades, the taut tension of back muscles. When Gladio leans in for a fist bump, Prompto pulls back for a moment too long before reciprocating. When Gladio swings an arm around his shoulder, Prompto seems to stop breathing, face going funny in a frozen kind of way before he giggles, a bit too high-pitched, elbowing Gladio in the side ineffectively.

Gladio doesn’t really know how to make sense of this puzzling behaviour. The only hunch he had was a sneaking suspicion about Prompto’s home life, and it wasn’t a pleasant one. But Noctis only ever says that Prompto’s parents are often absent and working, and Ignis’ research says the same thing. So Gladio puts those worrying thoughts to rest, though he’s still concerned about Prompto’s strange reactions over physical touch.

“Hey, Gladio!” Prompto waves as he jogs over to their agreed meeting spot. “Ready to run?”

“Was waiting for you.”

Prompto grins. “Let’s go then, big guy.”

They run down a familiar route, through the park and a ways down the city sidewalks, close to Noctis’ apartment. The streets are pretty empty this early in the morning. He lets Prompto set the pace, and is still pleasantly surprised to find the pace hard enough to push even him. The kid’s got stamina for days, Gladio will give him that. He just needs to work on his muscles and strength, and maybe he might even be a worthy candidate for the Crownsguard. He’s already got the loyalty thing down pat, anyway.

When they reach the end of the run, Gladio offers Prompto a water bottle from his bag. Prompto takes it with a nod of thanks. His arm seems to hover in midair when their fingers brush. Prompto quickly lowers it when his eyes accidentally lock with Gladio’s, turning away to work at the bottle. But Gladio notices. He considers the boy before him curiously.

“Oi,” he says. “You coming to the training session with Noct tomorrow?”

Prompto blinks at him. “Am I still invited?”

“Yeah. Unless you had other plans.”

“No! I mean, no,” Prompto says, “I don’t. I’d love to join you guys. Seeing Noct warp is always fun.”

“Don’t tell him that, he’ll show off just for you.”

Prompto grins. He punches Gladio on the shoulder, barely a tap. “Why, you afraid he’ll win your spars?”

Gladio doesn’t comment on how Prompto takes a moment too long to remove his hand from his arm. A dim lightbulb goes off somewhere in the back of his mind. He stays still, letting Prompto pull away on his own. “As if,” he says, rolling his eyes. He smirks. “You know you’re not just going to be an observer, right?”

The way Prompto’s eyes widen is almost comical. “N-No way!” he exclaims, waving his arms. “I would die!”

“That’s a bit drastic, don’t you think?”

“I’m just being realistic here, buddy.” Prompto reaches out again, this time to poke Gladio on the biceps. Gladio lets him. “See, look at these. You really think I stand a chance against these bad boys?”

Gladio doesn’t think too hard about it. He lifts his hand and clamps it down on Prompto’s head. The kid yelps, fingers closing around Gladio’s wrist, but instead of trying to pull Gladio’s hand away, Prompto just kind of... holds it there, a pretense of a struggle. Gladio ruffles the sweaty blond hair.

“First off, don’t call my arm muscles ‘bad boys’ ever again,” he says over Prompto’s half-hearted protests, “and second—” Gladio hooks an arm around Prompto’s scrawny shoulders. Prompto stills, but doesn’t attempt to pull away. Gladio takes that as a good sign. “Have more faith in yourself, kid.”

Prompto doesn’t answer right away. His face is turned downwards from where Gladio’s hand is still over his head, but the red tinge at the tips of his ears is clear as day. He seems to be trembling in Gladio’s hold. His fingers have gone limp around Gladio’s wrist.

Just when Gladio thinks maybe he pushed him too far and that maybe he should let go, Prompto drops his hands. He turns slightly and elbows Gladio in the gut. It barely moves Gladio, but Prompto is leaning into him now, and the shaking has increased until laughter is bubbling out of Prompto, easily and radiantly.

They’re both sticky with sweat, legs weary with exertion, but Prompto is hugging Gladio back like he can’t help it, like he needs it. If Gladio holds them there and aims a glare at any lingering stares in their direction, Prompto doesn’t need to know.

“Come on,” Gladio says eventually. He lets go enough to clap Prompto on the back, keeping his hand there between Prompto’s shoulder blades. “Let’s go take over Noct’s shower.”

Prompto beams back at him, and follows.

 

 

 

 

Noctis doesn’t notice right away.

It’s not his fault, though he has to admit that maybe Ignis is right, and he is often too caught up in his own head. He tries, though, and Prompto makes him want to try harder. 

But their friendship starts and trips and then starts again, and Noctis has never been a very tactile person. His father has been too busy for more than a hand on the shoulder for years, every time he’s back in the Citadel Noctis was expected to walk tall and proper, Ignis has always maintained an appropriate distance from him with the necessary touches when Noctis needs help, and Gladio’s physicality is a requirement of their training sessions rather than a comfort. Everyone else at school is too afraid to touch the prince. So Noctis is used to keeping to himself.

Prompto is different though. From that first day of high school and that enthusiastic greeting, Noctis has been learning Prompto’s touch. At first, Prompto doesn’t stray from the occasional slap on the back, fistbumps, and an elbow to the side when they’re teasing each other. But they quickly warm up to each other, surprising even Noctis. He finds himself reciprocating Prompto’s pats and nudges, engaging in high fives and low fives, even instigating some of those butt slaps Prompto seems to like so much. He still prefers to keep a distance from everyone else, but with Prompto, Noctis doesn’t mind.

It’s not until three months in that he realizes maybe their physical contact isn’t really considered ‘normal’ between friends. Friends probably don’t feel so comfortable in each other’s space. Friends probably don’t casually lean on each other walking anywhere, friends probably don’t share food without hesitating, friends probably don’t find any and every excuse to poke at each other with their hands.

Noctis doesn’t really care about what normal friends do. It works for him and Prompto, and that’s good enough for him.

It’s kind of nice, actually. Prompto runs at a higher temperature than Noctis does, so he’s always warm to the touch, which is a small relief to the constant aching Noctis has learned to live with. Noctis grows used to Prompto’s presence, a familiar support after a long day, a steady comfort when Noctis needs quiet reassurance. 

But of course he notices, eventually. Ignis often comments on how the two of them are glued to the hip, and when you’re that close, you’re bound to pick up on certain habits. 

Like how Prompto always seems to be judging the distance between them when they’re sitting down. Or how Prompto likes to swing his arm around Noctis’ shoulders when they’re heading to the arcade after school. Or how Prompto tends to start impromptu wrestling wars, or how Prompto will lean his head against Noctis’ shoulder when they’re curled up on the couch for a movie, but only if he’s sleepy enough.

How, once Noctis thinks about it, in the first few weeks Prompto would shy away from Gladio and Ignis’ touch. How Prompto’s expression seems to go a little funny when Noctis first began returning his physicality. How Prompto quickly grew into a very touchy-feely person, how he almost seems to sigh when Noctis leans on him back. How sometimes he would draw his hand back like he’s hesitating, like he’s calculating something in his head.

Noctis doesn’t really get it, but he knows Prompto, and he knows that while Prompto is outgoing and exuberant, his best friend rarely admits out loud the things he wants. So Noctis experiments.

When they have self-study and Prompto’s turned his desk around to go through the worksheets with him, Noctis will stick his foot out until he hits Prompto’s leg. The first time, Prompto jumps enough to rattle his desk, but then they’re nudging at each other under the desks, until their ankles are comfortably tangled together. Prompto’s face is tilted downwards, but Noctis can see the redness to his ears. 

When they’re sitting in the booths at their favourite diner, Noctis will slide over on the pretense of reaching for the pepper shaker. Prompto grumbles, but ultimately stays pressed against Noctis’ side. Noctis hides a smile.

When Prompto is over at Noctis’ apartment, Noctis will flop over onto his best friend’s legs and pin him to the couch. Prompto complains about his thighs going numb from Noctis’ big head, but sooner or later, his fingers will find their way into Noctis’ hair. Noctis has only peeked once, to see the quiet flush spread across Prompto’s face, and then quickly looking away. He keeps that image to himself, ignores the way his own face wants to reflect the blush.

When they’ve managed to escape to the rooftop for a brief moment of peace, Noctis will shift over just the slightest bit, until their hands brush against each other. He’ll lift his pinky and link it with Prompto’s, and the other boy will freeze for a split second, but he won’t pull away. They’ll sit like that, pinkies intertwined, and it’s nice.

Prompto never says anything about it. So Noctis doesn’t mention it, either.

But today, Prompto isn’t so much sitting on his couch as trying to become one with it. He’s been quiet all day, the kind of quiet that feels like a storm is broiling underneath his idle smile. It’s more like a grimace today. Prompto’s not as good of an actor as Noctis is.

“Hey,” Noctis says eventually, throwing down the game controller. “What’s up?”

“Hm? Nothing, why?”

Noctis fixes his best friend with his best Specs-impression stare. He waits, counts to three, and watches Prompto cave in.

“It’s really nothing,” Prompto begins, which means it really is something. “I just... I talked to my parents last night. On the phone. They’re just days away from a breakthrough, which is great! But they said they probably can’t make it to the grad ceremony.”

Noctis stays quiet, watching Prompto fiddle with the bracelets on his wrist.

“I mean, it’s not that big of a deal, I know they’re proud of me, and they said they would try to come back but you know. Travelling’s hard these days and they’re busy with work, so I get it. I guess I just... wanted them to see me walk across that stage. But it’s whatever. I’m just making a big deal out of nothing again—”

“Prompto.” 

“I’m being a baby, sorry for bringing you down, Noct—”

Noctis doesn’t like the self-deprecating laughter spilling from Prompto’s lips. He reaches out, slowly, and tugs Prompto close until his blond head is tucked under Noctis’ chin. The other boy goes still, and then melts into Noctis’ arms. His hands hook onto the back of Noctis’ shirt. Noctis hugs him, petting his hair slowly. 

Prompto’s parents might not be bad people (Noctis wouldn’t know, he’s never met them before, though not for lack of trying), but Noctis can’t forgive them for the lonely dark that Prompto has to return to, for the awkward independence Prompto was forced to learn too soon, for the way Prompto still hesitates when asking for things he wants. Noctis admits he doesn’t understand the hardships of parenting—he can remember the years of silent dinners by himself and being turned away from closed doors, but even Regis makes sure to leave Noctis in capable hands and company—but he knows that leaving your kid to raise himself isn’t right.

“Noct?” Prompto’s voice is muffled against Noctis’ shirt.

“Shush,” Noctis replies. He leans backwards, pulling Prompto with him, until they’re both lying on the couch together. He holds onto his best friend, until Prompto settles into him, warm and pliant, soft and steady.

If Ignis finds them much later, still tangled together on the couch and fast asleep, only the blanket laid over the both of them will tell.

 

 

 

 

“Prompto!”

There’s sweat and blood dripping into his eyes, his calves feel like they’re on fire, he’s pretty sure his shirt  _ is  _ on fire, and his breaths are coming in ragged gasps as he tries to remember how to work his lungs again. Prompto struggles to his feet, glancing over to see where his friends are running towards him.

“Prompto Argentum, ya beautiful bastard,” Gladio says, reaching him first. He slaps him on the back and nearly sends him tumbling to the ground again.

“That was quite an incredible shot,” Ignis acknowledges, hand on his shoulder.

“Knew you had it in you,” grins Noctis, pulling him in for a side hug.

Prompto stares back at them, slightly overwhelmed. Adrenaline is still pumping through his veins, he’s still blinking away the sparkles from sending away his guns to the armiger, there’s a dead Coeurl lying just meters away. But his friends are here, coming in for a group hug, sweaty and laughing and he’s right in the center of it all. 

Closing his eyes, Prompto leans into their arms. “What can I say?” he says, grinning brighter than the sun above them. “I’ve got your back.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm just out here trying to give prompto the love he deserves......... sweet sunshine boy........
> 
> come yell about these kids with me @puddingcatbae on twitter/tumblr!!


End file.
